The Lucy Mills Chronicles: The Family Tree Misery
by tmpayne80
Summary: Lucy Mills, Henry and Ella (Cinderella) Mills daughter, must explain her family tree to her class and teacher. The problem: It has to be truthful and normal, two things her family line are not. Can Lucy, Emma, and Killian accomplish that mission? (Special Note: Colin O'donoghue, the actor who plays Killian Jones, comes from Drogheda in real life.)
1. The Problem

I claim no ownership to Once Upon a Time characters or story lines. They belong to Disney. No copyright infringement intended. My only take away for me, when it comes to my stories, is the satisfaction of my readers.

My life is made up of the stuff many would call a delusional work of fiction. My grandmothers, adopted and birth, are both possess actual magical powers. Grandma Regina is the Queen of the United Realms. Emma, as she prefers to go by, is the deputy of Storybrooke. My only living grandfather is over 200 years old and a pirate, to boot. My only living great grandparents are equally as old and just as famous. Please tell me anyone that hasn't been told about Snow White and Prince Charming? I have gone to great pains to fabricate a story of my origins when necessary. Otherwise, I just avoid group interactions when its possible. I may have been raised in the real world but my birth had been in another realm.

I had been able to hide it after the final curse, good curse, had been cast. As I grew up, it got harder and harder to keep my true story under wraps. The first two years of high school had gone by without many issues. My classmates had found it odd that I chose to go to all the dances by myself, alone, stag. It worked like a charm. I never had to explain any potential unexplainable situations.

Leave it to my junior year history teacher to put me into a catch 22 that pitted my conscience against my reality.

"History, despite what most of you sleeping beauties believe, isn't an impersonal, irrelevant, nap-inducing subject. History requires human action for it to be told. Everything I teach has had some effect on your ancestors." The teacher put the assignment on the wall.

I tried not to show my distress at the prospect of having to deal head on with my worst fear. The person next to me glared at me after the thousandth click of my ball point pen. Call it a fidget, a clear indicator of my growing anxiety.

"Your assignment is to create a family tree diagram and present it to the class. You have two family tree formats in the class folder on the computer. I will extend extra credit to the students that can bring in at least one family member on that tree. That extra credit will go on your final exam score at the end of the semester." The teacher tapped the desk of jello-necked head-bobber that had lost in a nap.

A wave of discomfort had washed over me and the receded back out sea, like the warning signs of an impending tsunami. The monster wave of panic slammed into me with the last stipulations.

"Integrity is one of those rules, I personally, live by. Absolute honesty, no fabrications of fact. If I detect even the slightest attempts at artistic license, I will call it a zero." The teacher set his eyes on me.

My heart rate sped up, and with enough force, had threatened fling itself free from my chest. My favorite sweat shirt might as well have been a heavy-duty parka. I had thought about shedding my sweatshirt but a brief peek into the neck had reminded me that I hadn't wore anything under it. It had taken all the self-control within me to not allow a full-fledged panic attack. The rest of the class groaned while I whimpered inside my head. They'd feared the time it would take to do the work rather than spend their limited free time doing anything but that.

"The due date for each individual is found in the class folder labeled "Family Tree" assignment. Remember ladies and gentlemen, honesty is the only policy with me." The teacher turned on the classroom lights and turned off the overhead projector.

The bell rang, allowing me to make a hasty retreat to my locker and out the school's double doors toward home.

We live two miles from the school in an area just inches away from Storybrooke's side of the Enchanted Forest. I thought about begging dad to move us into Storybrooke where situations like this would never happen for obvious reasons. I eliminated the option after the first half mile of the journey because I knew my dad would never let me run from my problems. That had left me with the two remaining, non-viable options to pick from.

Dad had been sitting at the table when I'd entered, my head down and bag dragging on the floor.

"Lucy, how was…" I thought I heard dad greet me.

Mom had been in the bedroom napping soundly. She'd been abnormally tired, even for her in the last month.

Dad smiles all the time and mom acts as if she's carrying around a secret of her own.

His tall shadow covered me.

"Rough day at school, kiddo?" Dad called from the door frame.

At the time, I had preferred to bypass the long dad-daughter lecture-discussion. I required answers, not more frustration.

"Is Emma and Killian home?" I attempted to avoid the inevitable.

As predicted, he let out a sigh and slumped against the door frame. The light from the hallway had acted as a spotlight on my bag, like I'd needed a reminder about my predicament.

"I think. Let's go." Dad relented, causing me to feel guilty for my decision.

Snow and Charming had been home with Hope. Two small children were in the background giggling like partners in crime plotting a surprise attack on Charming. Emma and Killian sometimes escaped the stress of parenthood by going to the Jolly Roger, where their daughter hadn't been allowed to go yet. Made sense. A toddler on a pirate ship had so many disastrous possibilities for unfortunate mishaps.

An unwelcome image flashed through my head after dad brought the car to a stop. Nobody wants to envision their grandparents rolling around naked in the bed below the decks. It doesn't leave your head. If anything, it sticks in there like some bad movie you'd been forced to watch.

The boat wasn't rocking and all had been quiet when our feet hit the gangway. A good sign. Only the squeak of wood and the gentle slap of the water against the hull surrounded us. I'd almost banished the nightmarish image in my head until Killian came up from below decks buttoning the last button of his shirt and his hook conspicuously absent.

Dad turned red and I looked away in embarrassment.

"I hope we weren't interrupting anything?" Dad jammed his hands into his jeans.

Killian rubbed his lips and smirked.

"Just a late breakfast. Emma is a master at pancakes. I can't resist." Killian stumbled through his explanation.

Dad looked back at Killian, obviously confused. It was a reference of something that we hadn't witnessed.

Killian's guilty behavior and stupid smirk gave away the obvious, true answer.

"Sorry to interrupt Killian, but I needed to talk to you and Emma. I need advice." I changed the subject for the sake of my comfort and Killian's dignity.

"Who is it Killian?" Emma's voice echoed off the interior of the cabin's walls.

"Lucy and Henry, love." Killian turned around, staring down into the darkness as if he'd had x-ray vision.

That had been one time that had been glad that I'd been otherwise normal. Reading Killian's mind would've created a sudden need to jump into the water just to clean out my mind.

"If it's okay with you Killian, I'm going to go to Granny's for a cup of coffee." Dad turned to dismiss himself.

"Sure Henry. Take what time you need. I don't get to see my favorite granddaughter all that often." Killian nodded for him to leave.

I watched dad walk off the brow and to the car.

"It must be important." Killian's left arm rested on my tense shoulders.

"Believe me… it is. I'd talk to dad, but one of two things would happen, a lecture or an embarrassing conference between my teacher and dad. Neither of them sounds good to me right now. It's already awkward enough as it is." I looked into his blue eyes.

He stretched out his legs.

"I have to do a family tree for my history class. It has to be normal and honest, two things that contradict each other in this family." I admitted, the last part tumbling out in a mindless way.

Killian's face had soured at first and then turned into a relaxed chuckle.

"I see. Honest, we are. Normal, definitely not." Killian pulled me into his shoulder.

Yoda's voice had snuck into my ears when Killian spoke those words.

Emma's footsteps interrupted the conversation. I forgot about my problem when I observed Killian's reaction to her presence. The love in his eyes had been the stuff not found anywhere in the real world. It was the look of a man absolutely, lost-forever in love with the lady he loved.

"You didn't have to come up, darling." He took his arm from my shoulder and caressed her cheek.

The two of them kissed in front of me, reaffirming my previous suspicions.

A sudden uncontrollable need to cough arose in my throat.

Emma blushed and slid Killian's hook back in place.

"I did. You know about the world within the United Realms. I know about the world beyond Storybrooke." Emma massaged his shoulder.

Killian stood up and Emma took his place at my side. Killian stayed standing.

"You need our advice about how you're supposed to explain this…family." Emma guessed.

I saw understanding in her eyes, a motherly softness she'd reserved for select people.

"Do you have paper and a pen on you?" Emma's face lit up.

I hadn't thought to bring it with me. I wished in my head that I'd had one on hand.

A small note book and pen materialized in my sweatshirt handwarmer.

Strange.

Where had it come from?

A work of Emma's magic?

Couldn't have been my doing. No magic powers here.

"If it sounds too much like a strange fairy tale, it's an instant zero." Emma smiled back at me.

Killian smiled back down at Emma, interjecting what I would have said had I been fast enough.

"From what Lucy told me, love, it has to be the truth and…"

I had to finish the thought, even though it had been too obvious.

"Normal. Truthful and normal."

Emma's eyes hadn't lost their light even after knowing the stipulations.

"There is a way, Lucy. Listen and write. It'll sound normal to the teacher and anyone else in the class." Emma reassured me.

Killian's head angled in interest.

"What I am about to tell you is the truth. Life in Storybrooke, the cursed version, had been closer to normal." Emma instructed in a way that gave me the added hope I had been seeking in a hopeless situation.

Stay tuned. To be continued in chapter 2.-TP


	2. The Answer

Emma leaned in to whisper in Killian's ear something well below my abilities. Whatever she had said to him had created a mixture of emotions that had crossed his face. At first, his eyes had stared a hole into the deck and his lips slackened. A clear indicator that anything she was about to share might cause Killian a degree of pain. He looked up after taking Emma's hand and kissed her lips in a soft affectionate way, instead of the way that must have been normal for them. I saw them both mouth "I love You" before turning their attention back to me.

"Write it the way I tell you. I know you're going to have questions. I'll answer them later." Emma's tone wavered between stern to motherly in just three sentences.

Nobody I have ever known would say such a thing if the explanation they were about to give was simple.

Complicated as usual.

"I was born in Bath, Maine on April 21, 1983. At the time, nobody had known who my parents were so no name is listed. Your father's father was born May 10, 1982. Your grandfather's name was Neal Cassidy. I gave birth to Henry in Tallahassee Florida on June 25, 2001. I had been young, alone, and in jail at the time. That is the straight-forward easy stuff to explain." Emma seemed to warn me.

Here came the confusing, mind boggling information that would test the power of poker face.

"My father is David Nolan, born in 1963 in Bath, ME, just like me. My mother is Mary Margaret Blanchard, born in Pine Hill, VT in 1964. He married her where the two states intersected, on a quirk. Your father's grandfather was Mr. Robert Gold, born 1950 in Scotland and immigrated here somewhere in the early 1960's with his wife Mila McGaren. Mila divorced him not long after Neal was born." Emma seemed to make up the imaginary details as she went along.

Killian seemed to wince when Mila had been mentioned.

"We can't leave out Killian or your Grandma Regina. Neither are blood family, but they have a part in your family tree. Killian was born Killian William Jones in Drogheda, Ireland in February 14, 1978. He served in Her Royal Majesty's Navy until he had to be discharged after losing his left hand in a freak training accident ten years ago. Grandma Regina Coraline Mills was born September 13, 1977 in Magic Springs, NY. She's been the mayor of Emerick, ME for over 20 years." Emma struggled more with Killian's and Regina's than she had with the first batch.

I read back all she had told me in the same tone that I would have to face my class with. I detested what I had been forced to do. I had been raised to tell the truth, even if it meant further trouble for me.

Emma took the paper from my hands and put them on the deck, my pencil rolled to a stop against the side of the open port the cabin.

"It's going to be hard. You're not looking forward to lying to the honesty police". Emma's mouth formed a smile-straight combination. "Sometimes a lie is required to protect those you love and care about. I've had to do it a time or two myself. I didn't enjoy it, by any stretch of the word. I did what I had to do."

The warming of Emma's hands on top of mind brought partial peace to my conflicted mind.

She'd been right.

I hadn't wanted to break my teacher's cardinal rule while in his classroom. He'd broken every student that had tried to pass off some quarter-baked excuse for missing homework or being late for class. I had a bad feeling that he'd break me before I even put my shoe into the classroom.

Maybe, in the back of my mind, I had been trying to protect my family more than my grade.

"Too bad that I won't have anything to back up this story. I wish I had proof to keep the questions down." I looked over to her.

Emma patted my hand.

"Tell the story, word-for-word, the way I told you. He'll believe you, without a second thought. I'm a human lie detector. That makes me an expert of producing credibility. Just trust me, kid." Emma reassured me.

I considered Emma's evaluation and apparent expertise, counting each of the facts on my fingers.

"Would you mind coming to my class for the presentation? They might not believe the lost hand story if they didn't see it for themselves." I cheered up.

Killian rose to his feet and disappeared down the wooden ladder into the darkened cabin below.

"Is he okay, Emma?" I looked into the dark entrance of the cabin.

A light switched on, revealing the grains of the wood on the cabin floor's deck.

The fluidity of a liquid falling into a glass blended with heavy foot falls on aged wood.

"He's fine." Emma looked down into the lit cabin.

He returned to us with three glasses of, from what I could detect, tea. Emma would have sent it away if it hadn't been.

"It's only sweet tea." Killian handed me a cool, sweating glass. "I gave up rum after Hope was born. I prefer to be sober when I'm around Hope. Becoming a father changes a man."

Emma accepted hers with a short, tender kiss.

Killian turned the conversation back to the proposal I'd thought he hadn't heard.

"I was once an officer in Her Majesty's Navy with my brother until he died. It isn't too much of a stretch." Killian took his seat next to Emma. "I became a pirate, or should I say a privateer, after my brother's last voyage."

"If he's in, I'm in." Emma slapped him on the back. "I don't' even have to act."

I had expected his eyes to darken at her gloating over his misfortune.

"That's where you're wrong, love." Killian countered, a smirk of satisfaction on his face. "You will be ACTING because you have extraordinary parents and an unbelievably handsome husband."

Killian kissed her hand.

Dad walked up the wooden plank brow with a greasy bag in hand.

"Granny sent these back for you." Dad handed the bag to Emma.

Steam rolled out of the bag. The aroma of onion rings, fresh from the deep fryer, escaped into the open air. Intermingled with it was Granny's famous grilled cheese.

The smile on Emma's face told me that I'd found something to use as leverage if I ever needed it.

"Granny figured you two had been …busy…while you were away from the house. She misses Hope and asked me to tell you to come back for breakfast in the morning." Dad's eyes never fell on Emma and Killian when he'd uttered the first sentence.

I would've done the same. Some thoughts are best left without recollection. I'm sure that dad hadn't wanted to envision the things that go on when Emma and Killian were alone.

"Thank you. We've been… preoccupied." Emma squeezed Killian's hand.

Time to go!

I wanted to say it but I could only think it. I respected them and my dad.

I sought an instant exit out of fear that it would escape my mouth.

"We need to get back to the house, Lucy." Dad saved me.

There was something about the way he'd said it that had raised suspicion as to the occasion.

"Your mom made your favorite. I'd like to enjoy it while it's still hot." Dad stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Curse or blessing?

Which of those awaited me?

Scratch that.

The word "curse" isn't a laughing matter for my family after surviving one myself.

Dread or excitement?

That's much better.

Out of my peripherals I watched Emma and Killian disappear back into the cabin, apparently laughing like to teenagers off to an underground hideaway.

The unwelcome scene popped back into my head, which I abruptly kicked out of my thoughts. I had to sleep.

"I know what you're thinking Lucy. Not something I care to imagine, either." Dad started the bug.


	3. The Result

I stared up at the poster posted on the wall.

"Warning! Due dates are closer than they seem."

The faded, microscopically visible copyright date had blended in with the faded background. My guess had been that he'd had it since his first day of teaching here over 20 years ago. The lamination that had coated it had been its savior.

I have passed it so many times with a glare and a chuckle. The words were funny in their delivery but hardly a necessary reminder for teenage consciences.

That laminated harbinger of the dreaded assignment ahead had boosted my mounting anxieties to new, a million more times uncomfortable levels.

Emma, supportive and intuitive as usual, had made it an intentional point to drop by the house, with the excuse of checking in on my mother and dad. Before returning home to her Hope and Killian, she'd knock on my door and step into my room.

Each time Emma would sit on my bed and wait for me to share the presentation.

The story I had been handed had gone from a 30-minute stutter job to a confident, hesitation-free retelling of my family's fictitious history.

Emma's honest critiques of my performance in my silent room weren't always pleasant to take in. The first few attempts had drawn hornet like reviews from her lips.

No, her words hadn't been said in a scathing, heartless way.

Still, her honesty had left me smarting from them.

I admit it. I had been raised to be a terrible liar, especially to my family.

I AM A PEOPLE PLEASER.

At least, that's how I am with those I hold in the highest respect and love.

The need to please them has been known to be my closest ally. It has been my greatest irritation. One or the other, NEVER has it been both at the same time.

My last attempt, just two days before the actual presentation, had produced the result that I'd been working towards…absolute credibility.

"You got this one, Lucy. If I hadn't been the one to tell you the story, I would've believed you. You have nothing to worry about." Emma stood up and hugged me.

"I sure hope so, Emma. My grade in History is depending on it. I'd hate to let dad down because I had failed history." I didn't look up from the floor.

Her finger caught my chin so that my eyes were on hers.

"You won't let him down. Besides, Killian and I would never let that happen."

I saw honest reassurance in her eyes. It felt it.

Emma chuckled when she let me go.

"I promise. We will be on our best, non-humiliating behavior. If we made you uncomfortable back on the Jolly Roger, we hadn't meant to. We rarely get that much time alone these days. Killian realized it after you left. He asked me to send his apologies." Emma draped her arm around my shoulder.

I sat at my desk after she'd left, confidence growing in my mind.

As the poster had warned me, it had been closer than I'd wanted it to be.

I stood at the head of the classroom, staring down at the worn podium. The eyes of bored teenagers and the whispers of the school gossips clawed away at the confidence I'd acquired two days before.

The atmosphere of the room had shifted from unnervingly loud to a comforting calm when Emma and Killian stepped into the room. The personalities of the class had undergone a temporary, positive adjustment.

All eyes had gone from me to them. The eyes of the guys in the class had studied Emma and then changed when they'd seen Killian holding her hand. The most obnoxious of them all had gone from, slouching to sitting ramrod straight, in his seat. His face had gone pale. I hadn't noticed Killian's piercing blue eyes broadcasting a clear, menacing warning into his.

The ladies of the classroom must have found his reaction entertaining, almost attractive. I heard some of the boyfriends of the girls in the room muttering.

Emma's subtle nod spurred my thoughts forward.

I had managed to recite my entire family tree without stumbling. I hadn't taken my eye off my distracted audience. It hadn't been lost on me that my teacher had been the only one not fixated on the couple standing behind me, her hand securely intertwined with his.

Before I'd stepped into class that day, I had expected to earn one of my teacher's legendary glares.

The whispers of students, past and present, had told of foiled senior skip days with one simple squint of his grey eyes.

I stood there holding my notecards in my calm, unshaking hands.

The security of my desk had been a "Q and A" away.

My teacher took two steps up the row, stopping next to the most notorious "sleeping beauty" student of the whole class.

"Mr. Killian Jones?" my teacher's voice snapped him out of his slumber session. "Is that right?"

Killian's hand tightened on hers for a brief second.

"Call me Killian, please." Killian's blue eyes hardened at first.

Eyes had fallen away from my grandparents and had shifted to my visibly unnerved teacher.

I tracked the direction my teacher's eyes had gone, four all for cardinal directions in a matter of seconds.

What he did next hadn't just caught me off-guard. The whole class had noticed it, some with glee.

He'd cleared his throat, the second uncharacteristic reaction for the schools "Man of Steel."

"Yes. Please call me Killian, mate." The glow of Killian's cornflower blue eyes lit up when his lips twisted into a satisfied smirk.

Someone's backpack zipper echoed off the walls and barely ajar windows.

"Ms. Mills brought up that you come from Ireland. What your favorite thing about Drogheda?" My teacher retreated to his favorite place in the back of the room.

Killian's face softened, and his voice returned to the tone I'd come to love.

"My walks on the beaches all over County Louth. One day I might take my Emma and Hope to see it for themselves." Killian turned to Emma, whose face revealed unconcealed shock at the admission.

I'd ever heard Killian talk about where he'd come from.

The way Killian had shared his heart had made me believe that he'd been telling me and the class the truth.

Emma kissed him on the cheek and leaned against his shoulder.

Those girls with a boyfriend in the room slowly fell on those fortunate (or unfortunate) guys in the room.

I heard a collective sigh of relief when the guy, with the least likely chance of asking anything, came up.

"Mrs. Jones. What did you do back in Boston?" the skinny boy corrected his posture in his seat.

I'd heard Killian call Emma's effect on people magical, thinking it to be a major exaggeration on his part.

Clearly an understatement rather than an exaggeration.

Instant respect from every male in the room, including my teacher.

"I prefer Emma, one." Emma turned her attention to him.

The tone of her response hadn't been unfriendly, but it had left an interesting effect on the guy's face.

"I worked in the bail bonds industry." Emma relaxed. "Not the easiest job when you're in a dress and heels."

The eyes of those boyfriends turned to those girlfriends in a strange, daydream like way.

Every one of my classmates had an inquiring mind. The question had been for one, or both, of them to answer.

Killian and Emma were always prepared with a, sometimes unexpected, answer in return.

The rest of my day had gone, oddly and gratefully, better than usual. The silent types had either waved or greeted me with "Hi." The jocks passed by me without the usual obnoxious laugh or cough-insult I'd become accustomed to since my arrival to the school. The teachers with the sourest of faces, smiled back at me.

I rewound the presentation footage in my head.

Killian?

Emma?

I'd never been that powerful, so it couldn't have been my doing.

How did this adventure in family history end?

I'll tell you!

The reoccurrence of the "Big fat F" glare for all but one other person, one.

All I had to do to pass the final was spell my name right, two.

A humbled teacher, three.

Until my next adventure…

L. M.


End file.
